


Burnt

by LadyLovePetals



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Advisor!Sansa, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Romance, F/F, F/M, Mad Queen!Daenerys Targaryen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 14:31:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19465951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLovePetals/pseuds/LadyLovePetals
Summary: When Sansa meets Daenerys, she is skeptical; and then, she is entranced.





	Burnt

**Author's Note:**

> I'm terrible at summaries. This will be the prologue of the story. Though it's what will occur in the future of the story. The following chapters will take us back to the beginning, before everything came to pass.

* * *

**Prologue**

"You _burned_ them."

Sansa's voice was but a soft, tenuous whisper. As if saying these words would constitute as treason of the highest degree; and perhaps in this case, it was.

"You burned them _all_. Why? _How_ could you _do_ that?" And then, dangerously, traitorously, her tenor grew, the barely veiled anger and disbelief bubbling to the surface.

"They put their faith in a tyrant." Came the simple reply. As if that could possibly explain away the horror show awaiting outside the walls of the Red Keep. And it was so _ironic_ , that Sansa had to struggle to suppress a choke of laughter she knew would be near hysterical in pitch.

"Did you even _see_ what you've _done_?!" Sansa's voice cracked a bit.

Her mind was filled with images of the slain. Bodies burned charcoal, stiff in death. When she'd passed by tiny bodies, some still wrapped in the arms of their mothers, she'd wept. Wept for them; for the fear she knew they must have felt down to their final moments, for the lack of reprieve they'd gotten, for even their deaths were of the most heinous kind. An excruciatingly _painful_ execution. They hadn't deserved it; _least_ of all, innocent children.

Sansa grit her teeth, her nails digging painfully into the flesh of her palms.

"Children." She said, blue eyes boring into amethyst, a rage she hadn't felt in years overcoming her. " _Children_ , Daenerys! _Babies,_ _burnt_!"

She stepped forward, her eyes near wild with vexation. Daenerys' in turn however, became further hardened in their resolution.

"Tell me, did _they_ choose to follow a tyrant?"

"Sansa..." Daenerys sighed, and her hardened eyes softened a fraction. Sansa continued to glare at her, though Daenerys chose to ignore it for now. "Some sacrifices _must_ be made, for the new world. A _better_ one. One where people can live without fear. No more tyrants who force us to make such horrific decisions to-"

" _Cersei_ didn't choose this. _You_ did!" Sansa snapped, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind that urged her to choose her words more carefully. She waved it off mentally, her focus firmly planted on the woman before her. There was a fire waging war inside her. She wanted to yell and scream at Daenerys. She wanted to denounce her right then and there. She'd known from the beginning, hadn't she? She'd _known_. She'd _felt_ it in her gut.

But she'd allowed herself to get drawn in. By lovely, amethyst hues; by full, pouty lips and fair skin and silky, silver locks. She'd been entranced by gentle, secretive smiles reserved for her, and she’d taken the similarities between them and wrapped herself in willful ignorance, wanting to believe she had been wrong to distrust her; wanting to believe in what Jon and Tyrion and so many others said they believed in when they saw her. Daenerys had utterly _enraptured_ her, and slowly but surely, she'd let her guard down.

She'd known Daenerys had been slipping since the death of Jorah and living with the continuous chilly reception of the North. She'd tried to reassure her with words; placate her rising paranoia with genuine promises, secret kisses behind closed doors and lingering gazes in the daytime.

Passionate embraces and soft, naked flesh against the other between fur lined sheets at night. Never before, had she felt anything like the way she had with her. Never had she ever been close to the embraces and passion she'd felt with the beautiful woman before her. The only experience she'd ever had with romance, had been a tragic, painful reminder of her own naivete. She thought she'd grown; learned from her mistakes.

But here she was, a fool once more.

Only this time, it was far worse. It was far worse because she knew...

She knew she loved her.

"Daenerys... _Nery_..." She bit her lower lip, light blue eyes slowly filling with tears she'd tried desperately to fight back. She was shaking slightly, and though she tried to will it to stop, it was only managed by a fraction. The breath had seemed to all but sweep from her lungs.

"... _Sansa..._ " And it seemed it was this sweet nickname Sansa had dubbed for her, _Nery_ , that ultimately melted the ice in the Dragon Queen's eyes. She stepped forward and Sansa found herself wrapped in warm arms, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

Sansa wanted to push her away. To scream not to touch her. Because how could she ever think she'd want her arms around her? And those hands...the ones that now gently caressed her hair...she'd used to direct Drogon to _massacre_ a million people.

She knew; losing Missandei and Rhaegal back to back the way she had...it had broken her; she'd seen it, plainly written in her eyes. The rising suspicion and grief that had begun to consume Daenerys in the North; it had won out despite Sansa's best efforts. Sansa felt a knot tighten in her throat...and collapsed in her arms, pressing her face into the silky-smooth velvet of her ebony dress.

She dug her nails into the forefront of her top and wept. Wept for the lives of those lost in such a senseless crime. For the madness that had enveloped such a gentle woman’s heart, and for the broken one within her own chest. She barely registered the gentle caresses of the hand as it continued to glide through her scarlet locks. "It'll be better for everyone; I _promise_ you."

Lies, _all_ of it.

Still, she let her say the words and she stayed firmly locked in the Queen's arms. Because as long as she was here, she didn't have to look in her eyes; didn't have to face what would come after...whatever that would be. She just knew when she pulled away, they could never be like this again. Not truly.

But until then, she felt secure.

**Author's Note:**

> So that was the prologue. Let me know what you think. 🥴


End file.
